The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Fifty-Eight

Charlie wears a grim expression when I turn the corner.

Blood leeches into his clothes, turning the white t-shirt and khakis he's wearing a haunting shade of red. His boots are slick with it, too, and his bloody feet prints are stamped all around us. However he took the last men out was bad—really bad.

I don't have it in me to feel sorry for them, though. There's an emptiness in the pit of my stomach, and despite the dissipation of adrenaline in my veins, I'm still keyed up and ready for battle. My fingers tremble at my sides, showering blood around my planted feet.

Chris moves to Charlie's side as his head raises and he lifts the dead man off the floor by his neck. There, where his black turtleneck is torn, a massive black tattoo snacks across his left shoulder. It's bold and dark, featuring slashes and curving lines.

Truthfully, it looks like a complete mess.

Iris can't make sense of the scribbles and neither can I. Sauntering toward them, I tilt my head to the side to get a closer look. Charlie's eyes snap to mine and his eyebrows furrow.

Something akin to fear flashes in the depths of his gaze, but he doesn't speak. The cool confidence I'm used to him exuding is absent, and in its wake there lies a desolation I can't handle. It curls across our link like a black fog—destroying as it moves forward.

Taking a deep breath, I shift to the side. Not away. Just giving him the space he desperately needs.

I raise my eyes to find Chris staring at Charlie's profile wearing a matching scowl. When Charlie turns his head to meet his eyes, an understanding flitters between them. It's without words or actions—a simple agreement I can't be a part of or read.

Michael stands at the entrance of the room. His green eyes glitter in the dark, caught by a sliver of moonlight bouncing off a mirror. He's tense, eyes poised on the empty corridor.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" I venture, lowering my voice to a whisper. "What's that tattoo mean?"

Chris and Charlie pass another look between them but don't rush to answer my questions.

"Hello?" I step closer, raising my voice enough to catch Michael's attention. "You obviously know these men or at least who sent them. Tell me who they are or where they came from?"

Chris shakes his head. "You don't need to worry about it. We'll handle it."

"You'll handle it?" I parrot. His dismissal leaves an acidic taste in my mouth. I want to scream, shout—tear this place to shreds. "Like you handled it this time?"

"You won't be left alone, again." Charlie cuts in. "We're sorry."

"Oh, you're sorry, now?"

I'm on a roll, tittering down the side of a massive mountain like an avalanche. All of the bullshit we've endured and they want to keep secrets? Secrets that would end my life if given the chance?

No. Hell no. Not today.

"You have about 15 seconds to tell me the truth or—"

"Or what, Blue?" Chris asks, an eyebrow raised. "What are you going to do? Attack us? Kill us like you killed those men?"

He freezes as I do. Wide-eyed and mouth fishing open, he's a sight to see. Regret simmers between us, but I don't care to hear the rest of what he has to say.

How dare he penalize me for protecting myself in my own home. How dare he pretend to judge me. How dare he act as though he has a righteous horse to ride in this argument.